Section 43, Site 3174
by P.J. Murphy
Summary: John Casey travels to Virginia to pay his respects to someone at Arlington National Cemetery: his father. One-chapter story dedicated to those who died in the service of our country.


_Hi there. Just thought I would throw in a short story about Memorial Day. When you think about it, isn't this site a testament to self-expression? One of the many things we sometimes take for granted. People have fought and died to have a say in their destinies, and sometimes we don't always appreciate that we live in a country that was built on giving every person those freedoms. Unfortunately, those freedoms came with a pricetag and still do to this day. Many men and women have given their lives so that we can say what we want, worship how we want, and be able to decide how our lives should be run. At the end of the day, there is still one thing that will always make this country great. Everybody has a shot at making their lives and the lives of the people around them better. That's a very powerful responsibility, and we should never take for granted those who safeguarded it for over 230 years._

_Please enjoy this short story and take a moment this weekend to think about those men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice so that we can keep this country great._

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Arlington National Cemetery, Virginia  
May 31, 2010  
11:00 AM**_

The drive from his hotel near Dulles International Airport to here took hours, but it wasn't exactly a surprise to John Casey. He knew that would happen, which is why he took a flight in last night and got plenty of rest. Lots of people would come here today. And every one of them had a story. Most of them visited a relative or loved one who occupied a place of honor on this site. Others came to pay their respects to those who made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. There was so much history here. It was impossible to walk out of Arlington National Cemetery without feeling a fundamental change in the way you saw life.

The last few weeks had been very trying for him. The team struggled to keep themselves together after Daniel Shaw almost tore them and the agency apart. It was a costly struggle. It took the life of Stephen Bartowski, a man for whom Casey had tremendous respect. Stephen tried to do what he did: protect Chuck. He made Chuck the Governor, which would keep the Intersect from overwhelming him. They were finally able to capture the Five Elders and stop The Ring. But the damage was done.

Casey tried to help everyone cope with Stephen's death by acting as liaison with the CIA to make all of the arrangements. But the events of the last several weeks hit him hard as well. He feared for Alex's life. The Ring knew about his daughter, and he struggled with not only protecting her, but trying to be a part of her life again. Like many other things that had happened over the last year, the reunion with Alex made him see things much differently.

He walked among the simple white marble headstones in Section 43 of the cemetery on his way to Site 3174. He made this pilgrimage every year since 1981, although he missed one or two years when he was stationed overseas. He used to make the trek with his mother, but her health in the last few years hindered her ability to travel extensively. But he always made it a point to be here on this day to honor him. He read the simple inscription on the headstone.

_Captain David John Coburn. Born January 17, 1943. Died April 24, 1980._

Certainly there were many stories in this place about a young son or daughter having to stand at the door with their parents or brothers and sisters and get that visit. An officer from the one of the branches of the military arrived to deliver the bad news. In the case of his father, it was bad news that was furthest from the minds of Americans. Nobody showed much concern with the officers and crew who died in Operation Eagle Claw, the aborted attempt to rescue the hostages from the U.S. Embassy in Tehran in 1980. His father was the navigator aboard a C-130 Hercules refueling plane that attempted to refuel the helicopters so they could make it back to the Nimitz after the mission was aborted. He never returned from that mission. But the only thing anybody could think about was yet another failure by the U.S. to get the hostages out. He had to grieve the loss of a father while the rest of the country complained they still couldn't get gas at a good price and the economy was still in shambles. Somehow, it didn't feel right.

He reached his father's gravesite. An American flag was already planted in front of the headstone, as was tradition on Memorial Day. He looked around at some of the other people visiting graves. Some were talking quietly; others were crying. Various bouquets of flowers, stuffed animals, and other mementos were placed at the sites.

Like many of the people who came here, Casey had a tradition he kept with his father. The tradition was two-fold. Firstly, Casey placed a cigar on top of the headstone on a small holder he brought for the occasion. This year, he brought his father a Montecristo, which he obtained from one of his old commanders who had retired to California. His mother had told him stories about how she tried to break his father of that habit, but the attempts were futile. Secondly, Casey brought a small bottle of scotch and a shotglass. He poured himself a shot, tipped it towards his father, and drank it. He knew it wasn't the first time someone toasted the memory of a hero who was buried here, but one of his favorite childhood memories, despite how it ended, was when his father let him have a taste of the scotch he was drinking while watching the 1978 World Series. A 12-year-old Alex Coburn did not like the taste, not by a longshot. But it was his father's way of bonding with him. His father taught him so many things. Most of all, he taught Casey to have integrity and respect. Casey wasn't always good at the latter, but certainly he always worked to have the former.

"Hello again, Dad," Casey said to his father. "I wanted to make sure I got here this year. So much has happened. I told you before about the kid I've protected for the last three years. Now, he's a spy. It's pretty amazing what he's done. I never thought he had it in him. He's still annoying as hell, especially now that that Walker finally got off her ass and admitted she loved the nerd. But he helped us take down a major spy operation that had penetrated far into the government. I gotta hand it to him: he's done far more than he was ever expected to. It just makes me sick he had to lose his father over it. It's been very tough dealing with that. I think you would have liked him. Certainly, the two of you had plenty of stories to swap.

"I don't know where we go from here. You said this country will always have enemies of some sort. Enemies who prefer absolute control instead of cooperation and consensus. After all these years, you still haven't been proven wrong. But I know one thing. I've never worked with a better group of people. Morgan, Ellie, Devon, Sarah, and Chuck, they're the best. You'd be proud of what they've done for this country."

He took out a cigar for himself. He placed his hand on the headstone. "I'll keep them safe, Dad. And thank you for teaching me what's important."

Casey stood there for a moment in silence. He then slowly turned towards his car. Chuck and Sarah were standing ten feet away, quietly looking down and holding hands.

"What are you two doing here?" Casey asked.

Chuck hesitated a moment, trying to find the right words to say. "We thought…well, everything you did helping with my father, it…it seemed the right thing to do."

Casey slowly nodded. "I appreciate that, Chuck. I guess I had to follow in my father's footsteps."

"He'd be very proud of you."

Casey looked at the bottle of scotch in his hand. "Come on. Let's go toast two heroes. Two men who helped raise good sons."

"The best," Sarah replied.

Chuck, Sarah, and Casey walked to their cars.


End file.
